


Wound Dresser

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Healing wounds, No Plot, Shipscuses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 03:06:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1882752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet.  I kind of ripped off Indiana Jones for this, but gave it a fair twist!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wound Dresser

"I've seen Simmons do this enough times. I know the routine."

He tried to relax. Watched.

As she unbuttoned his shirt. 

It was like he heard each individual button snap out of its place. 

And her hands slowly sliding down the sides of his arms, pushing the shirt away from his chest.

Her hands brushing at his skin.

She looked at his scar. She'd never seen it before.

She'd never seen this much of him before.

Instead of staring, she kept herself busy by applying the cleaning solution to the gauze and then to the wound on his ribcage. 

Thankfully, it was just a graze. But her fingers felt him solid in her hand. 

"Sting?" she asked.

When he didn't say anything, her eyes glanced up at him.

There was a focused look on his face, stuck somewhere between fascination and confusion.

"Earth...to Coulson."

"What?" he blinked. "No, fine."

Skye tried to fight back a smile from crawling across her face as she put the gauze aside.

"Something funny?" he asked.

"No," she said, hiding it, her chin raised. He didn't have the patent on smug expressions, after all.

She took the patch from the table and removed the protecting film, put it against his wound.

"Ouch," he said, wincing and jerking slightly.

Skye raised an eyebrow, then pulled the backing away. "It'll protect it. So you can heal."

"I know what it does," he whined. "You could've warned me. Simmons warns me."

"You should probably be more careful when someone's shooting at you," she added, putting her hand on the table, leaning towards him slightly. 

"Less...distracted."

He was very still. Everywhere except for his eyes. 

It became a little contest. 

And she wasn't going to be the first to look away.

"Are we done here?" he finally asked, trying to go professional.

"Unless, I missed anything?" she asked innocently, leaning further forwards.

"You mean, like...another injury?" His brow furrowing slightly. 

He needed specifics.

Skye nodded. "Anything that hurts. That's what I'm here for."

"I did scratch my elbow," he offered, raising it up in a bend, pointed to the blood on the outside of his shirt sleeve.

"And I can take care of that," she said, reaching for his arm and slipping the shirt the rest of the way down and off. She picked up the gauze. She dabbed the scratch on his re-presented elbow, feeling his eyes on her.

"Better?" she asked.

"Uh huh," he nodded, holding his breath.

"What else?" 

He smiled slightly, pointed to the scar on his chest. "Here."

"A.C..." she started, turning away over her shoulder.

"You asked," he smirked.

Her hand went up to her mouth as she stared back at him, considering. Doubting. 

"Your scar?"

"No," he said, pausing. 

When she didn't reply he broke eye contact with her, looked down at the floor. Inside, he was mocking himself. Silly man. This whole thing was silly. How old was he?

His eyes shut tightly when he felt her hand over his scar.

"And I have something for that?" she wondered.

"You do," he said, meeting her eyes. 

"You've been touching it this whole time."


End file.
